The gray silence, the gray waves, the gray wastes of the sea.

He who rides the sea of the Nile must have sails woven of patience.

God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.

The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;The winds that will be howling at all hours,And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;For this, for everything, we are out of tune.

To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.

The sea being so deep and so large, I'm sure other mysteries lurk out there, unseen and unsolved.